


Accident

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-19
Updated: 2006-03-19
Packaged: 2018-08-16 06:56:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8092126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: Trip tries to explain. (12/29/2004)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: This is my rather late (and extremely short) contribution to November's Drown Malcolm Month. It was inspired by a short story I read recently: 'Timeshare' by Neil Labute, from his book 'Seconds of Pleasure'.  


* * *

'What's up?'

'Nothing.'

'Yes there is. I can tell.' He's fidgeting, swinging his chair just a fraction, tapping on the desk. Sure signs.

'You really want to know?'

'Wouldn't have asked else.' Though I'm sure I know anyway. If I don't push will it just go away? Can I take it back—the words and the deed?

'I'm wondering when you're going to tell me.'

He's not looking at me, refusing to meet my eyes. Not good. I decide to play dumb. Probably a bad move.

'Tell you what?'

'Don't!'

He's looking at me now. A really bad sign. He's angry, and hurt. I could talk him out of anger—probably—but not the hurt.

'Malcolm—'

'Whatever you're going to say, I don't want to hear it.'

He jumps up, turns away from me to stare out of the window. He'll miss the window when he leaves, there isn't one in his quarters. I try to quash that thought, as if that could stop it happening.

'It was an accident.' Stupid thing to say, real stupid. Now there's no way I can pretend he doesn't know, that we're talking about something else.

'You don't sleep with someone by accident.'

He doesn't turn; his voice is flat, no accusation, no fight. That's bad.

'When you put it like that...' I trail off. This is not the time to make jokes, however feeble. 'I'm sorry.' No response.

He's frightening me, just standing there—quiet, resigned almost. Oh God, please don't be resigned. I try again.

'It just happened. It didn't mean anything. You gotta believe that.' I know I'm pleading and I hate it. Hate that it might not work.

'Charming! Did you tell her that? "Thanks for the fuck, sorry, it didn't mean anything."?'

Sarcasm. Is that good? Or just a sign he's hurting? I can't tell. I wish he'd turn and look at me, let me see his eyes. Then I'd know.

'No. I mean...it wasn't like that. We've gotten close, friends. She's mixed up, not right emotionally. Lonely maybe. I've been...' This isn't going well, not coming out how I mean it. 'It just happened, Malcolm. It doesn't mean—' I break off as he turns around and I can finally see his eyes. No, no. Please, no.

'You fucked because she was lonely?'

How can he do that—twist everything I say so it sounds so bad? So goddamned reasonable.

'You know that's not what I mean.' I hear my voice rise and make myself stop. I will not let him goad me into a fight. I know it's what he wants, so he can lash out and hurt me, like I hurt him. But I can't do it. This is way too important for that.

'I don't know anything any more.'

He turns away again. I think I hear a sniff and I have to sit down on the bed to stop myself going over and hugging him. I want to, but I don't think it would help right now.

'Would you have told me? If half the ship hadn't heard your little post coital tiff in the mess, would you have told me?'

Would I, if I'd truly thought I could keep it secret? I don't know. But I've hesitated too long before answering and I can see, when he looks at me over his shoulder, that he thinks the worst. Thinks I would have cheated on him behind his back. And I can tell from his eyes that that's worse than me fucking T'Pol could ever have been. He thinks I would have betrayed him and he's not going to forgive that. Ever.

'I might have.' Only honesty is going to help now. If anything can. 'Yes. Probably. Yes I would. I just would have liked to pick my own time, is all.'

'And anything you want you have to have, of course.'

As he turns back to the window I see the shine of liquid in his eyes. He blinks, those long lashes falling, and I feel like a light has switched off and

I'm suddenly left in darkness—am going to be in darkness for the rest of my life if I can't find a way to make this right.

'Don't do this, Malcolm.'

He gives a little snort. It could be laughter, but I know it's not.

'Me? What have I done?'

'You know what I mean. Don't make this bigger than it is. Don't destroy us. It's not worth that.'

'You've been pushing me away for months, refusing to let me help. You spend all your spare time with T'Pol, and now the two of you have had sex. What's left to destroy?'

For a second I think I see an opening, I think he's really asking. Then I recognise the flat note of finality in his voice and my throat gets tight enough to hurt as I feel the tears begin to flood my eyes. I try to blink them away—I don't want to rub my eyes or give any sign. I don't want him to think I'm using tears against him, that I'm hurting as much as he is. I don't know why. Doesn't make much sense, but it seems important so I just blink and will the tears to stop. One escapes and runs down my face. I can taste it in the corner of my mouth.

Salt. Like the sea.

Drowning. We're drowning in a sea of unshed tears—of hurt and betrayal and broken hearts.

Malcolm's afraid of drowning.

Now I know why, it's so damn painful.


End file.
